The light that had filled the mirrors was no longer steady.

It convulsed, expanding and collapsing in waves that threw Doran and Evelyn apart again and again, as if the space between them couldn’t decide what to be.

Doran’s feet struck something that looked like glass and felt like memory. Every movement sent ripples through the surface—ripples that showed fragments of her own past: the first prototype tanks in the warehouse, Victor’s signature on the requisition forms, Evelyn’s face ...